grief which the poor old gentleman (who had no fault but that of having been misled by a too violent passion) and his children felt, requires a Shakespeare's pen; therefore I am willing to close it as soon as possible, being quite unequal to the task. David and Cynthia felt all the tenderness and pleasure of their friends; and the clergyman rejoiced in having found a company where so much goodness reigned. He took his leave for the present, thinking at this juncture he might be troublesome, with a promise of returning again in a day or two to see them.
The poor old gentleman was so much overcome by the violent agitation of his spirits that he could hardly bring himself that evening to speak one coherent sentence. All they could get from him was that Livia was dead, and a promise to tell them all another time. But his children's goodness, and the joy of seeing them after so long a separation, was more than lie could bear, and almost deprived him of the power of speech. To say the truth, this good man was so entirely overcome with ecstasy at the sight and behaviour of his children, that he was that night incapable of inquiring what methods they had taken to procure subsistence from the time he had lost them. But, by the little he could gather, his heart was inflamed with the warmest gratitude to David.
Camilla, seeing how much her father was affected, prevailed on him to retire to rest. David was now resolved, as Camilla had found her only surviving parent, that very night to obtain her consent to his asking her father's approbation of his love; and desired the liberty of entertaining her one hour alone.
I shall not dwell minutely on this part of my hero's life, as I have too much regard for my readers to make them third persons to lovers; and shall only inform the curious that Camilla, on the consideration that she had already received such strong proofs of
